


Loving him (was red)

by tukimecca



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office AU, does this count as, jaehyun's sorta jerk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukimecca/pseuds/tukimecca
Summary: Office romance. Photocopy room confession.





	Loving him (was red)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Jaehyun! I agonized over not having any of the intended bday fic done (I had two btw, both not working), then I somehow entered Taytay’s binge and this thing just gave birth to itself /insert standard; i don't know why this is so long but its longer than i thought it'd be/
> 
> Beta by the super, mega, extra, hella awesome Ms. Smith, what do I do without you.
> 
> Apologize for any mistakes, timeline or place inaccuracy.

_Touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted was right there in front of you_ _  
_ _Memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words to your old favorite song_

Red – Taylor Swift

:::

Taeyong heard loving him is _blue_.

It’s blue, like the blue light that the sun emits is of a shorter wavelength. It ends almost as soon as it begins.

It’s not really _love_ , like how the blue of the sky and the ocean is not really blue but the product of optical effect. It’s blue rose impossible, like how roses are lacking the gene to produce blue pigment; he doesn’t seem capable either. Of loving. Of being _there_.

Loving him is like loving a ghost. An afterimage. A phantom behind your eyelids. A steady presence behind your back until you turn around only to find yourself alone. He is smoke, you can inhale him, but either he disappears once he’s in your lungs or he chokes you to death.

Taeyong had heard enough of girls gossiping, heard enough of yet another of Jaehyun’s so called ‘ _love escapades’_. Heard enough from Seulgi of the finance department, who came by to drop off a quotation and  tell him that Chaeyeon, the office sweetheart and current trophy holder of Jaehyun’s girlfriend position, is going to dump him today.

Seulgi also dropped off a jar of cookies, freshly baked by Wendy from the design department, which means the cookies are loaded with double amount of chocolate chips compared to the store-bought ones. She lingered long enough to tell Taeyong that he probably needs to give his junior AE another lift up tonight.

Taeyong’s only response to her, other than thank you for the cookies and quotation, was an arch of his brow.

Jaehyun has been dumped as much as he’s been confessed to, and he never seem to need any _lifting up_ after going through each one.

His seatmate, a Japanese guy named Nakamoto Yuuta, piped in, trying to steal a cookie from Taeyong but failing (Taeyong is especially protective of his cookies, _thank you_ ). “I told you, the guy is asexual.”

Seulgi gave him a funny look. “Doesn’t look so to me,” she said, but after a while she continued, “well, that’s plausible.”

Yuta’s eyes were still on the cookies, which Taeyong immediately evacuated into his drawer. The brunette eyed him dirtily. “Jerk,” he said, but Taeyong ignored him. “That actually should go to Jaehyun. He is a jerk. Not because he is asexual, but because he is a jerk.”

“Jaehyun is not a jerk.” Taeyong thought of the young intern who came to his office four years ago, straight out of college, fresh-faced. Eager. Dimples sweet like chocolate, cheeks soft and fuzzy pinks of peach. His hair was black as Taeyong’s was. Now, Taeyong was sporting an auburn shade after dying it ashen five months ago. “He’s just...”

“A jerk?”

Seulgi playfully slapped the Japanese guy on the back of his head. “Difficult. Chaeyeon said he’s jerk though.”

Yuta grinned like he’s the model in a toothpaste commercial. Considering his ex was one, it’s probably not odd that he had the art mastered. “See? He’s a jerk!”

“That _jerk_ is currently handling your client, Yuta, be grateful,” Taeyong snapped at him. No bite. Yuta poked his tongue out cheekily. “And, he is...difficult, maybe. Not the case for me.”

“It’s not my fault that the client is a racist jerk. He surely goes along with Jaehyun well.” Yuta had apparently  given up on trying to steal the cookies from Taeyong, and he opened his own drawer and pulled out an f energy bar. Yuta is on a diet. He wants to impress the guy from the insurance company who always drops by their office on the 1st of every month. His name is Kim Do, do, _something_. “And not the case for you because he is your puppy.”

Taeyong pursed his lips, somewhat not amused by the statement. “He is not my puppy.”

“He listens to you well,” Seulgi pointed out, secretly eyeing the content of Yuta’s drawer. She’s probably hungry, the finance department has had it rough since the beginning of February. “He follows you everywhere. And I heard from Chaeyeon that Jaehyun’s ready to drop everything he was doing for you.”

Yuta eventually realized Seulgi was practically snooping around his drawer with her eyes. He reached for something in the back of it, then produced a package of choco balls. Seulgi beamed at him. Yuta grinned back. Megawatts.

“It’s probably work related.” Taeyong didn’t know why, but the term he’d use to explain what he’s doing would probably be ‘defending himself’. “I don’t-“ he backpedaled immediately upon realizing that saying ‘ _I don’t really do anything with him other than for work_ ’ was a big, red, fat lie. It’s counterproductive, and Yuta (and Seulgi) would fry him alive.

“Did you know that Jaehyun only took her dinner for her birthday because apparently _Taeyong-hyung reminded me it’s your birthday today, so I think we should go_ ,” Seulgi said,  probably mimicking Chaeyeon, but Taeyong was never close enough to her to know how she sounded like. Yuta laughed, though, so Seulgi’s attempt was probably spot on.

“That’s a jerk move, alright.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes, tearing the choco ball’s package open with pen-smudged fingers. Taeyong automatically reached for wet-tissues. She took it gratefully. “Stupid, not smart. I’d have thought he’s not used to dating until I remember he’s practically dated almost all of the girls in the office.”

“He’s a jerk.” Yuta said it like it’s final. The unfortunate conclusion of a long, tiring meeting. “He’s lovely kid, though.”

“Jaehyun is,” Taeyong pressed. “He is, I think he’s just,” he looked at Seulgi, happily munching her chocolate. “Difficult.”

Yuta hummed, took another bite of his energy bar, then, “Difficult. Yet, girls are throwing themselves all over him.”

“Heard Chaekyung is eyeing the spot,” Seulgi said, wiggling her brows. “Like, she’s all over Chaeyeon this morning, pretending to cheer her up but, ehh, she’s transparent.”

Taeyong wanted to say Jaehyun is transparent too, it’s easy to tell if he’s angry or upset. He’s terribly bad at hiding his emotions. The guy is too honest for his own good, that’s how he had both charmed and convinced his clients.

Yuta and Seulgi will probably just refute him by saying that’s because Jaehyun is his puppy, so he kept it to himself.

“So, another breakup,” Yuta whistled after swallowing the last of his snack. “I should tell Youngho, he’ll owe me lunch next week.”

“Excuse me?” Taeyong bristled at his seatmate, looking at him like he’s a cockroach breeding. “Did you and Youngho just bet on his relationship again?”

Yuta pretended to be scandalized, but his fingers were already flying over the keyboard to type on Slack. “A guy should keep his income steady. Otherwise, how am I supposed to keep my girl?”

“You mean; _guy_ ,” Seulgi corrected him, “Doyoung called me today, he’s quite busy it seems, preparing for a business trip to Busan. You should postpone your lunch date.”

Yuta scrunched up his face in disgust at the mention of Busan. “Yeah, shit. At least I got a free lunch sponsored by Youngho. You know when he is coming back? And why is he telling this to you instead of me?”

“Nakamoto Yuta??”

“Maybe because he has business with me regarding our payment, it was delayed because the new intern entered the wrong number, and I had to apologize to him.”

Yuta half-cringed, half-grinned, because apparently Youngho had replied to him. Taeyong could see a long line of cry-laughing emojis popping up one after another on his screen. “Gee, sucks to be you. Sucks to be the intern, too. I take it Joohyun-noona was angry?”

“Are you ignoring me?”

Seulgi popped another chocolate into her mouth. “That’s what the cookies are for.”

When Yuta and Seulgi continued to talk as if Taeyong was not boring holes into their heads, Taeyong knew it was time for him to step down. No use in fighting when the enemy has retreated. In his case; _ignoring_ him.

He sighed in annoyance, took the quotation Seulgi gave him, and returned to his work. He didn’t think about Jaehyun at all until fifteen minutes before lunch, three hours before a meeting with a client. The same client who’d suddenly e-mailed him to reschedule without mentioning any reason why. f they weren’t an important client that Taeyong and Jaehyun had worked their ass off for for the past three weeks, he’d have demanded they tell him why, because Taeyong didn’t pull an all-nighter yesterday to work on his presentation for the meeting today, just for it to be delayed.

Technically, he could have asked them, but he hasn’t had enough sleep and he’s cranky, and he spotted another typo in his presentation, and he’s _really_ not in the mood to reply to client’s e-mail now.

“I’m gonna get coffee,” he says briskly to Yuta. No special reason, it’s not even obligation. It’s just a habit.

Yuta doesn’t spare him a glance, but he says, “Get lunch while you’re at it. Cookies won’t see you through the meeting.”

Taeyong groans. “There’s no meeting today, it’s been rescheduled.”

This time, the Japanese guy swiveled his chair to look at Taeyong properly. He looks genuinely sorry, and Taeyong feels sorry for himself too. “Dude, that sucks.”

“I know.”

Yuta would have patted his shoulder if he wasn’t sitting down. He ended up patting his stomach instead. It’s weird. It’s awkward. But Taeyong appreciates any kind of sympathy right now. “Seriously, ditch the coffee,”Yuta says. “Get actual, proper lunch that doesn’t consist of convenience store chocolate and milk.”

Taeyong pats Yuta’s head instead and leaves with a promise of not coming back at all until he gets a full course meal. Frankly speaking, he also feels like he needs one right now. It’s been a crappy day, and good food is the easiest thing he can get to fix his mood.

As he makes his way outside the room, he remembers he should notify Jaehyun about the reschedule as well. Right at that moment, he spots Sicheng getting up from his seat - the Chinese intern who Jaehyun is mentoring now, which makes him Taeyong’s intern too by proxy, or rather; Taeyong’s _puppy._

Indeed, Sicheng beams upon seeing him. Taeyong can almost see his tail wagging excitedly behind him. Taeyong’s heart flutters: he doesn’t have problem if people call Sicheng his puppy, and he certainly reminds Taeyong of his own puppy, Ruby, at home.

“Taeyong-hyung!” He greets him cheerfully, Korean still heavily accented. The younger yet taller boy approaches him in light-hearted step.

“Hi, Sicheng.” Taeyong reaches out to ruffle his hair. Practically cooing with his gesture. Sicheng grins bashfully: he doesn’t seem to find Taeyong’s pampering a bother. “Going out for lunch?”

“No, I already ate with Jaehyun on our way back. Meeting. I mean, in our meeting,” Sicheng struggles, rubbing his belly. “I’m still full.”

Taeyong helps him, “You mean you had a _brunch_ meeting?” Sicheng nods, grateful and eager. The affirmation makes leaves fall off Taeyong’s tree. “So, Jaehyun had had lunch, too? Huh, I was thinking about eating with him.”

“Jaehyun didn’t eat much,” Sicheng say, shaking his head. “He was talking. A lot. I didn’t help much, but type. Um,” he gestures toward his desktop PC. “So, I’m working on the MoM. Tidying them up. Now.”

Somehow, the newly supplied information makes his hunger double. Jaehyun hasn’t eaten. “Great. Not that he hasn’t eaten, of course. But he hasn’t. So, I can ask him for lunch.”

“It’s not like he’s going to turn you down, Hyung,” Sicheng says, and it makes Taeyong’s heart stutter. He knows that Sicheng simply means it as what is is. He doesn’t think Sicheng is implying anything with his statement; he is good-natured and innocently honest like that.

Perhaps it’s just the talk he had with Yuta and Seulgi this morning that’s affected him. _Jaehyun won’t turn you down. He is easy for you_. Truth to be told, he doesn’t even know what Yuta and Seulgi are implying. He’s not even sure they’re actually implying anything at all. It just feels odd, like wearing mismatched socks. Harmless, yet disturbing still.

“And if you’re looking for him, he’s in the photocopy room, printing materials for today’s meeting,” Sicheng supplies, looking happy that he is helping.

That snaps Taeyong back from his musing. He smiles wider, hoping it doesn’t come off as creepy or awkward. Judging from the way Sicheng shoots back a ray of sunshine at him, it’s probably all natural. “Thanks, Sicheng. If you need any help with MoM, my Slack is open anytime.”

Another ruffle of his fluffy hair, another sweet giggle spilling from Sicheng’s lips. Another promise of lunch, then Taeyong is out, to the photocopy room.

:::

She said loving him is grey.

It’s sad. It’s a bleak, desolate winterland. It’s the color of the sky when all clouds are rolling in, thunder rumbling to announce the arrival of rain.

It’s difficult: not black, yet not white either. It’s confusing, deceiving. Like smoke. And Jaehyun is smoke that you inhale into your lungs and kills you from within.

Chaeyeon says everything that they said about loving him was true.

It’s blue. It’s grey.

It’s loving a ghost, “Because you’re here but never _there_ at the same time. Have you ever really loved me? Have you ever looked at me at all?”

There’s so much pain in her voice. It’s thick and audible, her voice is tight and slippery with tears. Taeyong feels sorry for her. For Jaehyun. Because in nearly four years of knowing him, _loving_ Jaehyun has always been easy.

He is a sweet kid, as sweet as his spun-sugar smile and luscious-honey eyes. He is honest, as honest as his polite words and expressive eyes.

Reading him is as easy as reading a children’s book. He’s like a familiar fairy-tale his mother reads him before he sleeps. Taeyong knows it by heart, from beginning to end, how the dashing prince eventually save the beautiful princess. There are many stories, different journey but similar ending. It’s like getting to know Jaehyun; comfortable yet refreshing.

He is never difficult, not for Taeyong. _That’s not the case for you_ , he hears Yuta’s voice in his head, and as he listens to Chaeyeon moan about how it was a struggle to maintain a relationship with Jaehyun, Taeyong can’t help but agree. He cannot imagine Jaehyun treating him the way he’s been treating Chaeyeon.

Maybe, he also agrees with the part where they said Jaehyun is a jerk.

Just a bit, because he still believes that Jaehyun has his own good reason for doing this, not turning down anyone who came to him.

They said kindness is cruel, and if Jaehyun’s acceptance is his kindness, then Taeyong supposes the statement is true.

“I’m sorry,” is the only answer Jaehyun comes up with. His voice is even, steady. A smooth drive under cloudy sky.

Chaeyeon laughs, sardonic. When she speaks, there’s bitterness everywhere, biting even to Taeyong’s skin. He cannot imagine how it is for Jaehyun. “Are you?”

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. Silence prolongs itself, oblivious, it’s just doing its job. And it’s just Jaehyun’s responsibility to answer her, “I am.”

This time, Chaeyeon doesn’t laugh. Rain has fallen, cold and unfeeling. She eventually breaks into a sob, then without as much as a goodbye, she leaves.

For her, it’s long, stormy road home.

:::

Loving him is blue.

The story goes around about how Jeong Jaehyun, the manager’s favorite junior AE, has broken yet another heart. This time, it’s not just anyone’s heart. This time, it’s the precious heart of the office sweetheart, Jeong Chaeyeon. This time, even the guys probably will scorn his name.

This time, Jaehyun is just as unbothered as any other day.

Taeyong stares at him over their meal; hotpot, for it’s a cold day in early February, and that’s what Jaehyun has suggested they eat.

It’s never been difficult for him to solve Jaehyun. He wears his heart on his sleeve, for Taeyong, at least, because if what he’d heard _eavesdropping_ earlier from Chaeyeon’s statement was true, he’s like solving a white puzzle.

No. Even now, it’s incredibly easy to tell that Jaehyun is feeling totally fine. No guilt, no remorse, like he just made a blunder on his presentation. He’s not bothered nor frustrated when he found that the numbers and graphs don’t add up.

Jaehyun is fine, totally fine. In fact, he’s probably flying because apparently, he spotted an error in the presentation when he was photocopying and the reschedule gives him time to fix it. They’re both meticulous: Yuta would say they can just cross it out and explain later to the clients, but neither he nor Jaehyun is having that.

Taeyong told him it sucks anyway because he’s been working so hard on it, and it sucks even more to know he actually missed another mistake when he was sure he had ploughed through it with fine-toothed comb. Jaehyun said he probably overworked himself and promised the lunch will be on him.

The elder insistently pressed it’s gonna be the other way around, and that was when the words, “you just broke up,” slipped out of his mouth.

He cursed mentally. The plan had been he wasn’t there, he wasn’t eavesdropping, and use Seulgi as scapegoat, but Jaehyun read through him like Taeyong could do the same to him, and only responded with a grateful, “thank you, Hyung. That’s. Not necessary, but.”

“Just think of it as my apology,” Taeyong slapped his hands over his mouth. “Shit.”

“Apology for?”

But Jaehyun figured it out the exact moment Taeyong said, “I didn’t meant to eavesdrop.”

“You heard.”

Silence, back doing its job. Unassuming. Taeyong judged it either way.

“Huh, so you heard,” Jaehyun looked down, he sounded guilty and embarrassed. That should be Taeyong. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Hyung. That was...yeah.”

“I shouldn’t have. Sicheng told me that you’re here, and I was meaning to tell you about the reschedule, and I heard you haven’t really eaten,” Taeyong explained himself. “Yeah,” then finished, lamely.

Silence ticked by again, mocking. The humongous photocopy machine sat there, watching.

“Jaehyun-“

“It was a long time coming,” said the younger man. “It wouldn’t last that long, anyways. She deserves a better man.”

“And you’re not?” Taeyong couldn’t help but ask. “A better man, I mean. You are. Everyone loves you. The clients, the guys from tech departments. They’re not exactly friendly with me.” Taeyong scrunched his nose. In fact, they’re an ass to him, and never seem to get everything right in one go.

“They’re just intimidated by you, Hyung, they’re not doing it on purpose because they hate you or anything.” If that was Jaehyun’s attempt at cheering him, it really wasn’t smooth. He realized, apparently, because he cringed, biting the corner of his bottom lip. “Bottom line is, everyone might love me, but not the girls.”

“You’ve literally got girls lining up waiting for you, you know,” Taeyong pointed out.

His junior chuckled, starting to gather the papers he’d copied. Taeyong wanted to help but seeing as there wasn’t  much to do, he let Jaehyun do it himself. “Trust me, I don’t even know why they do it. You heard her, right? I’m not exactly the prince charming they imagined me to be.”

 _It’s like loving a ghost. It’s blue. What they said about loving you was true_ . “Because they don’t love _you_ ,” he muttered.

That stopped Jaehyun in his tracks. He didn’t turn around to look at Taeyong, but he could tell by the set of his shoulders that Jaehyun probably had a look of astonishment on his face. It was not there in his voice, but the way he sort of stuttered in the beginning of his words was tell-tale already. “They don’t. Yeah. It’s not. Maybe. You’re right, yeah. They don’t love me. Maybe. Just, you know what they said.”

“In love with the thought of being in love with you.” Taeyong didn’t know why it was so easy, to talk about this, _like this_ with Jaehyun.

He supposes it’s granted: Jaehyun has always been easy, after all. For him. To him. If it was Yuta he was talking to, he’d probably think Taeyong had grown eight heads, or just laugh hysterically at him for being ridiculous. But this was Jaehyun, and Jaehyun listened to Taeyong intently, earnestly, even when he’s droning on and on about the difference between eggs in his local supermarket to the ones sold at the convenience store across from their office.

Being with him is easy, like the familiar road home.

“That one,” Jaehyun agreed, resuming his task, putting the paper into a brown A4 envelope. “They just, love the idea of being in love with me.”

“Exactly, that’s why they said loving you is like loving a ghost.”

This time, Jaehyun looked at him, a funny look across his handsome face. “Loving me is like what?”

“Like loving a ghost. Umm. They said. Seulgi told me, you know? Loving Jeong Jaehyun was blue, and all that shit,” he stammered, avoiding Jaehyun’s eyes.

“That shit. Loving me was blue.” He hummed, somewhat sounding amused. “Actually, it’s extremely poetic.”

Returning his gaze, Taeyong found Jaehyun was looking at him, still, smiling pleasantly. He didn’t look like someone who just got dumped barely ten minutes ago. “I told you, they love you.”

“They do, for a reason I can never seem to get my head around,” he added, “not that I’m not grateful, but, it’s...”

“Burdensome?”

A single hum was his only answer. He looked so genuinely tired that Taeyong wanted to smother him in the fluffiest blanket he could find and have him sleep until whatever had exhausted his mind went away. He couldn’t, smother him in a blanket, that is, not now, but he can treat him lunch, and he reminded Jaehyun of it.

And now, here they are, eating hotpot. Snow no longer flutters outside the door and weather is still in the minus degrees, but in here, the heater is on, and their lunch is on the spicier end because Taeyong needs extra kick to get awake. It’s still mild enough, though, because he doesn’t handle spicy food well.

And Jaehyun is fine. Totally fine. He is a bright, spring day as usual, and he still gets excited over the sight of food as he does on  any other day.

Taeyong rethinks his indicator. Food is not a good one. Jaehyun could get chewed out by the most difficult, uptight client, but his appetite for food wouldn’t decrease one bit even though he couldn’t get a wink of sleep at the prospect of a failing project.

“You’re not eating, Hyung?” Jaehyun asks, noticing that Taeyong has been staring at him and not touching his food. He looks concerned as much as he’s curious. Taeyong feels guilty.

“Sorry, I was just. Thinking.” He takes a spoonful of rice but doesn’t get it to his mouth, looking at Jaehyun still.

The man blinks, “About?”

“You.”

He blinks again, perplexed. “Me?”

“You,” Taeyong repeats, then eventually brings the rice to his mouth. It’s slightly cold now that he’s left it for a while.

Jaehyun is quiet, apparently waiting for him to continue. Now, it’s Taeyong’s turn to be stared at, but he ignores him, downing his food as if to make up for the time he’d missed. In the end, Jaehyun relents. “If it’s about what happened, I assure you, I’m fine.”

Taeyong says, “I know,” but he doesn’t elaborate. He merely continues with, “Doesn’t mean I can’t think about anything else.” _Like how you could be fine with everything_.

“Should I be touched?”

Taeyong looks up from his food, about to say something along the lines of _‘be grateful you have someone who’s looking after you after the jerk moves you’ve been pulling_ ’, but all words wither in his throat, flowers when winter announces its arrival, when he sees Jaehyun.

When he sees the way Jaehyun is looking at him.

She said Jaehyun was difficult, like a second grader working on a seventh grader’s workbook. Like a first timer trying to beat a game on hard mode.

For Taeyong, it’s always been easy. Like breathing. Like a well-memorized recipe. Like making a mistake.

And reading Jaehyun so easily might be Taeyong’s first mistake. Until he remembers that maybe, he already made his first mistake so many years ago.

:::

Loving him was black.

Terrifying. Unknown. Unfamiliar. Like threading through unknown water. Like peeking under your bed. Like falling and knowing there was nothing to catch you.

Loving him was black. Consuming and dark. And Jaehyun was the smoke he inhaled into his lungs only to eat him away from within.

Taeyong never regretted it. Never once regretted the way his breath caught when the sun caught in Jaehyun’s eyes. Never once regretted the way his heart stuttered when Jaehyun stuttered adorably in his speech, clumsy. Helpless. And he’d seek for Taeyong’s helping hand, the one he gave oh so willingly.

He never regretted getting his heart broken either when Jaehyun got his first girlfriend.

“I was so sure he’s into you, but I guess you’ll never know,” Yuta had said.

Taeyong simply responded with, “I told you, you’re reading too much into things. He’s intimate, that’s all.”

“Yeah, he never did as much a bro hug with me, even if I technically saved his ass in yesterday’s meeting. You only saved him the last honey butter chips in the convenience store, and he gave you a full body hug,” the Japanese guy pointed out, skeptical.

Taeyong didn’t say anything to that. He just thought of how loving Jaehyun was black.

It wasn’t a color at all.

:::

The lunch had ended on rather awkward note, because after that, Taeyong chose to resolutely avoid looking at Jaehyun’s face, and Jaehyun wasn’t doing anything about it at all.

They still talked, and it was random, and it could have been enjoyable if not for the fact that Taeyong couldn’t dismiss the image of Jaehyun’s hopeful face and his brain wouldn’t stop whirring, trying to decipher it. It’s not even a code, it’s laughably easy. The answer was there in bold, red marker, and Taeyong just chooses to ignore it.

Lunch’s finished, Taeyong paid, and they returned to office talking about work. Work. Thankfully, they’re both workaholics who get distracted easily when their project was mentioned. It helped get Taeyong’s mind off the subject that is Jaehyun, and he pushed away the thought that perhaps Jaehyun was bringing the topic up to help ease it out of his head.

“How was lunch?” Yuta greets him when he returns, chopsticks stuck between his teeth, an empty plastic container on his table.

“Had hotpot. Treated Jaehyun,” he replies, taking the trash off Yuta’s desk and dumping it on the bin. Yuta pats him on the back as a thank you. “Was good, place was a little crowded because it’s still deadass cold outside, but it was good.”

“Poor guy, dumped again, just before lunch.”

“He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, though.” Taeyong sits, clicks the _enter_ key and takes his time filling in his password. “He never seem to be.”

“Huh, figures.”

Taeyong presses enter, looks at Yuta with a frown. “ _Figures_?” His PC loads for a while before popping up his wallpaper, a picture of his puppy, Ruby, in his sister’s hold.

Yuta takes out the chopsticks from his mouth, dumps them where Taeyong had previously dumped his lunch container. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just, I don’t think he ever really loved them at all. He cared, but barely enough that he’d missed them. Sometimes, I wonder why he even bothers accepting their confessions. Girls are not charity cases, you know.”

“He knows they’re not.” Taeyong feels affronted on Jaehyun’s behalf. “He’s just, too kind.”

“And cruel.”

“They said nothing is more cruel than kindness,” Taeyong adds, “and mercy.”

“And, he’s a jerk, still. If he doesn’t like them, he can just reject them.”

“He probably can’t stand seeing them cry.” Taeyong opens his Outlook and curses immediately. So many e-mails. “Shit.”

“Sucks to be you.” Yuta gives him his coffee, canned, already half-empty and lukewarm. It probably tastes gross but any caffeine is caffeine, and it does wonders for Taeyong’s brain. “Girls still cry when they break up, what’s the point?”

“You. You actually made a point.” _Twenty e-mails. Fucking twenty_. Whatever happened in just the span of an hour for everyone to send him this many e-mails. He needs stronger coffee.

“Right. He nevers tell you anything about it? Them? His girlfriends, why he never rejects them but always ends up breaking up with them in the end.”

“I thought we already,” Another reschedule. Friday’s meeting pulled forward to Thursday. That’s tomorrow. _Fuck_. “Had this conversation before. He never ever tells me about his girlfriends, at all.”

“Ever wonder why?”

Taeyong doesn’t know why he’s still entertaining Yuta with this conversation when his brain is nearly fried. Maybe because he still wants to think of Jaehyun. Maybe, he’s desperate enough to think about anything but his abysmal work. “It’s private.”

“I’m starting to think he doesn’t want you to know.”

That stops Taeyong in his tracks. That’s enough to distract his attention away from his piling inbox. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Taeyong. He’s not _easy_ for me,” Yuta shrugs. “Anyways, your inbox does look _bad_. I won’t bother you anymore, good luck, Buddy.”

Taeyong is left staring at Yuta who returns to glue his eyes on his monitor. _Jaehyun doesn’t want him to know_.

Why?

:::

Loving him is black, still.

Terrifying, but now, it’s not as unfamiliar. It’s everywhere, after all. Now, it feels more like a friend, but unsettling still.

Taeyong thinks of Yuta’s words more than he expected he would.

He thinks about it so much that he ends up not getting a wink of sleep.

His night is spent thinking about Jaehyun. His girlfriends. The lack of any conversation about them unless Taeyong initiated it, and even then, the response from Jaehyun had been minimal, and the subject was quickly dropped because Jaehyun had looked uncomfortable.

Because it’s private, right? You don’t go around talking about what you and your lover do in your private time. And Jaehyun is a private person: he looks open, but he’s as guarded as Taeyong is, minus the temperament and constant mood swings.

Well, Yuta does. Doyoung might not be his lover, yet, but Yuta tellsTaeyong about each and every one of his attempts at _wooing_ the insurance guy. Jaehyun is not Yuta, though, he hasn’t even told  Sicheng that his father is a professor yet.

More like, nobody in the office know Jaehyun’s private life outside work other than Taeyong.

That’s actually unnerving, and Taeyong squirms under his duvet, staring unseeingly at the ceiling of his dark room. _This_ is what Jaehyun is to him right now; confusing yet familiar.

Weird. Taeyong struggles to remember when was he ever seen Jaehyun contacting his girlfriend. Yet, he’s somewhat convinced the answer was _never_.

Frustrating, that’s why he never like solving puzzles. He prefers plastic models because at least they come with a guide he can follow. Puzzle? The most he can get is a finished picture, and the thing with Jaehyun is now, Taeyong thought he had seen the complete picture except he apparently hadn’t.

“Why won’t Jaehyun tell me about it?” he mumbles to himself.

Why? Why won’t he? Why doesn’t he want Taeyong to know? Surely, because it’s private, right? But then he remembers Jaehyun’s face today, at lunch. He just had been dumped but he had looked at Taeyong, hopeful. Sunlight  in his eyes, and there were too many things under those pair of citrines that if Taeyong had to sum it up, it had to be _happiness_.

He shouldn’t be feeling happy, though, he was just freaking dumped by the most popular girl in their company. He should be sad. Dejected. Not that he wants to see Jaehyun being in a slump, but that’s the normal reaction when you’ve broken up, right? Of course, unless you expected it, and Jaehyun did say it’s a _long time coming_.

Whatever that means. That probably means he’s been waiting – _expecting –_ the break up to happen. It’s absurd, honestly. That’s not normal. You shouldn’t be eager at the prospect of your lover leaving you unless you never loved them in the first place.

Chaeyeon’s question echoes in his head; _Have you ever really loved me? Have you ever looked at me at all?_

And Jaehyun’s answer had only been; _I’m sorry_.

That’s not an answer. No, maybe it’s _an answer_ , and if that was one, Jaehyun was a jerk indeed. He basically admitted he never loved his girlfriend, not even once, not in the three months in which they wore the nametags of _his girlfriend_ and _her boyfriend_.

Then why accept them in the first place? Taeyong ponders. He always believed it’s because Jaehyun’s too kind to turn them down, but he also knows it’s much more cruel for him to take their hand in the beginning only to let them walk through the maze alone as he walks further ahead.

Or maybe, he stands still in the entrance as the girls wander into the depth of their illusions. Their illusions about him, about Prince Charming named Jeong Jaehyun with a smile as sweet as cotton candy and dimples as deep as his voice.

Taeyong doesn’t know who to blame then, despite knowing that this is not a blame game. But isn’t it just as cruel if the girls were imposing their images on Jaehyun when Jaehyun was anything but who they’re dreaming of?

Who knows, maybe Jaehyun never turned anyone down because he, too, was waiting for his own princess, someone who would love him for who he is, not what people want him to be? What if all these times, no matter how unbothered he looked like, he’s actually crying inside?

And Taeyong didn’t know because Jaehyun had always come easy to him. Like beating the first stage with a level 99 character. Like singing his favorite song.

Easy, like making a mistake. This is another of his mistakes, like loving Jaehyun. It’s black. But he never regrets it.

It’s not color. It’s not love.

:::

Taeyong is so sure he won’t be able to get the questions out of his head.

He’s proven wrong when he arrives the next morning and finds out Yuta is down to flu and all his work is now Taeyong’s to _play_ with.

He thinks of Jaehyun, still, but strictly professional. He arrives not long after when Taeyong is grouchily deleting the Slack notifications in his inbox. He arrives with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, too, and Taeyong is eternally grateful but he’s too high-strung to thank him properly. It’s okay. Jaehyun understands.

He occupies Yuta’s seat, removes some files that had been haphazardly stacked on top of the table beside his desktop, then sets his own sleek laptop on the now empty spot.

“It’s okay, Hyung, you got me,” he says, reassuring.

Taeyong is reassured. He feels slightly better too because Jaehyun is more _merciless_ in his work than Yuta is. But stress is stress anyway, and at least he manages to grumble out a, “ _thank you_.”

He thinks Jaehyun squeezes his knee. He feels it, familiar warmth on his thigh. He’s too engrossed with his work to mull it over.

:::

The weekend eventually arrives with crisp morning air. Taeyong’s mood is still abysmal, Yuta is still sick and won’t be coming back until next week. Taeyong still has to cover for him, which means he has to attend the Saturday meeting Yuta promised his client.

Idiot Yuta. What kind of idiot books a Saturday meeting.

Well, Taeyong did, too. He still does it sometimes, but only for big-fish clients. Yuta’s isn’t so he doesn’t know why he bothers.

Thankfully, Jaehyun had decided to accompany him even though he probably doesn’t need to because he’d taken over Yuta’s other (racist) client, but he volunteered, insisted. And Taeyong was too exhausted to reject him. A helping hand would be nice. He hopes the client won’t be too fussy so he can wrap up the meeting quickly. The faster, the better. He misses his bed.

Taeyong dresses himself simply, partly because he can’t be bothered, partly because they’re at the top of his clothing pile. White button-up shirt, black sweater, jeans dark and simple enough to pass as non-casual pants. He throws on a huge, equally black coat, and then he’s out the door, glad that at least the weather is good enough.

The sky is blue as far as he can see, blue, like loving Jaehyun, they said. Jaehyun, he’s coming today. He’s been the talk of the company, the subject of lunchtime gossip, after his breakup with Chaeyeon. Yet, he’s as unbothered as ever, impressing people left and right with his achievements.

And he is effortlessly handsome in his white turtleneck, brown hair slightly parted in the middle. His nose is red, messenger bag slung casually across his shoulder. A cup of steaming coffee in hand, waiting for Taeyong outside the subway entrance. “Good morning, Hyung.”

“You’re awfully chirpy for a Saturday morning meeting,” is Taeyong’s way of greeting him. He non-discreetly peers at Jaehyun’s coffee. “Good morning to you, too, got none for me?”

“This is yours,” Jaehyun smiles, handing the cup to Taeyong who accepts it giddily, heart singing with _coffee!_ “I’ve finished mine already, figured you’ll need it.”

“You bet I do.” He takes a big gulp then sighs blissfully after, the liquid warming his throat, the slightly tangy bitterness kicking his nerves awake. “You’re the best, Jaehyun, you know that?”

Jaehyun actually puffs out his chest, his smile is proud, his eyes sparkle. He reminds Taeyong of a huge Siberian Husky who’s complimented with _good boy_ after executing all his master’s orders fluidly. “Always for Taeyongie-hyung.”

That. That got him laughing, and he almost chokes on his coffee, Jaehyun looking positively alarmed. “When was the last time you called me that? _Taeyongie-hyung_?”

“Not long ago,” Jaehyun fishes out a handkerchief from his pocket. He offers it to Taeyong. “Surely?”

Taeyong declines, licking the stray droplets of coffee from the corner of his mouth instead. “Surely? I don’t know. I don’t think so, it feels like,” and he spots another brown drop on his palm.

Taeyong licks it, too.

“Aeons ago, don’t you think?” Then he looks at Jaehyun, lips still more or less pressed on his own skin.

Wrong move. Jaehyun is looking at him, at his palm. His hand.

A certain part of his brain screams that Jaehyun is looking at his lips. The more rational part tells him Jaehyun is looking at him like that because he finds Taeyong’s action gross.

That must be it! There can be no other reason, who the hell licks their own hand to get a coffee stain off, usually people either shake it off or use a tissue to wipe it away.

He quickly brings his hand down, flustered, cheeks aflame. Pretending it’s from dawning realization that they’re not the only people here in the station. Pretending it doesn’t have anything to do with Jaehyun’s eyes on him. “Sorry, that was. Uhh. Gross.”

When Jaehyun speaks, he sounds weird. Like he’s not quite breathing. Like he’s just _dazed_. Taeyong pretends he sounds like that because his throat is dry for having to wait so long in this weather. “It’s okay, Hyung. It’s. Okay.”

“Okay,” Taeyong repeats dumbly. This is not familiar. This is like the rearranged version of your favorite song, or hearing someone else’s rendition of it. “So. We should go. I think.”

“We should go. Probably we should. It won’t be good, shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Jaehyun sounds a lot calmer this time. Taeyong collects himself, too, taking another gulp of his coffee. It fizzles comfortably in his stomach. This is _fine_. This is their usual ground. Meeting. Clients. Jaehyun. Work.

“Let’s go.”

:::

The meeting went well. The clients are lovely. Two young women from a travel agent, they’re thinking of setting up advertisements on subway stations since the holiday season is coming. They’re not too difficult, simple, easy to please. The only thing they nitpick on are the prizes but Taeyong smoothly assured them it’s negotiable.

“Mr. Nakamoto will send the quotation to you by this Monday, hopefully he’s all recovered and ready.”

They also send interested glances in Jaehyun’s direction, the last fifteen minutes of their meeting comprised mostly with them trying to steer the talk in a personal direction, but Jaehyun smoothly evaded it.

He still says, “my pleasure,” though, when the girls tell him they’re going to contact him soon after Jaehyun politely declined their hang out offer by saying he has something to work on with Taeyong.

Or rather; _used_ Taeyong as his excuse. The girls leave them, with handshakes, with a farewell that’s obviously less than professional.

Only when they’re finally out of the cafe where their meeting was held, Taeyong ponders out loud, not looking at his coworker.

“Funny. I don’t remember that I have anything else I have to work on with you today other than this meeting.”

“Sorry, Hyung, that was. Umm. If I said I have plans with you, they’ll just try to tag along,” Jaehyun sighs. Apologetic.

Taeyong supposes he is genuine. Taeyong is not surprised Jaehyun turned them down. He never takes on flirting in a business scene. Off, it’s another issue.

Would Jaehyun have accepted the invitation if this wasn’t a business meeting?

Would Jaehyun have accepted it with Taeyong there?

Would Jaehyun have accepted it with both factors combined?

“And that’s bothering you because?”

Jaehyun is sitting beside him so Taeyong cannot look at his face. But he catches the way Jaehyun’s hand stops just before his fingers wrap themselves around his glass of half-empty latte. “Bothering me?”

“You don’t seem like you wanna hang out with them.” Taeyong reaches out for his own drink. A steaming cup of rich-flavored hot chocolate. Unlike Jaehyun, his is still mostly full.

“Do you want to?” he asks back. Taeyong frowns. At his mug. It’s chocolate, and Jaehyun is born on Valentine’s Day, so, somehow it’s Jaehyun.

“No, because I want to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “guess I’m bothering you then.”

Apologetic. Dejected. Taeyong doesn’t take it well. He amends himself, “Sleep can wait until night comes. What is it, anyway? I thought you just wanted to use me as an excuse. Do you really have something you want to work on with me?”

“Not exactly work. Lunch. It’s been a hard week for you, and you treated me lunch on Wednesday. So I was thinking that maybe we can -”

“Get lunch together.” Taeyong hopes the fluttering of his stomach doesn’t transfer into his voice because the ever so cliche butterflies are wreaking havoc in there now.

“But if you want to sleep-“

“Okay.”

He can hear Jaehyun holding his breath back. “Okay?”

He can hear the door jingling open, a merry ‘Welcome!’ chorused by the staff behind the counter. There are people sitting around him. Around twenty, maybe, but none of them pay the two men any attention. Too busy indulging in their own conversations.

Nobody should be singing, but Taeyong hears a hum. A familiar, nostalgic tune.

He dares to look at his junior. His coworker. The one who’s so easy to love. Jaehyun looks hopeful. Eyes glimmering with words his lips do not speak of. Lips whose corner he bites on. Lips that, once upon a time, Taeyong dreamt of caressing with his own.

This time, it’s Taeyong who holds his breath.

“Okay.”

He doesn’t know what Jaehyun is expecting. Likewise, he doesn’t know what he is expecting. The canvas will be left forever blank. It’s not a color at all.

:::

Taeyong expected a good lunch, okay, he did.

Lunch is good. Lunch is great. Lunch extends into what Yuta would call a _bookstore date_ , except that this is not a date. He definitely didn’t expect it to happen. This is just him and Jaehyun hanging out together. They’re 28 and 26 respectively, they’re too old for all the dating cliches.

Taeyong had feared it’d be awkward, but as always, Jaehyun comes easy to him. Natural. He is brown, the color of nature. The color of earth. Familiar. Always safe to look at.

He feels silly for fretting over nothing. This is just them having good time outside their desk work. All notions of professionalism dropped, yet, it doesn’t feel strange at all. It’s comfortable, like well-worn jeans, everything fits perfectly, and Jaehyun’s laugh is as loud and lovely as usual.

But when Jaehyun offers to take him home, and Taeyong fails to find any reason to decline, he realizes that maybe he’s not silly as he thought he was.

The ride home is silent, both because Taeyong is actually exhausted from the long week and because he’s too nervous to utter a single sentence in case he ends up getting his own foot stuck in his mouth for accidentally blurting the many questions crowding his mind.

Jaehyun gets him, thankfully. He doesn’t try to initiate conversation, just asking now and then if this was their stop or if they needed to switch lines. It’s Saturday afternoon and the train is jam-packed with people out and about. Jaehyun stands in front of him, sandwiching Taeyong to the wall. It’s normal. The boy has been his protective wall since forever, maybe since he got to know him, and he takes his duty to heart.

It’s comforting, knowing that there’ll be no random people bumping into him. But back then, Jaehyun always had a girlfriend and Taeyong had squashed any idea that Jaehyun was anything but straight.

Now, Taeyong becomes painfully aware at how intently Jaehyun is paying attention to him, like how his hand is pressed on the wall, effectively shielding Taeyong from anyone who could have bumped into him from the side. He is standing so close to him, they’re almost chest to chest, and the only thing separating them is Taeyong’s messenger bag that he’s holding against his chest.

Taeyong screws his eyes shut the entire ride, pretending he’s worn out enough that he can sleep while standing perfectly straight. Jaehyun buys it, keeping guard the whole time until they reach Taeyong’s stop, and it tears down Taeyong’s wall at the same time.

The train jostles here and there. Stops. Continues. It’s a familiar way home, like getting to know Jaehyun. Taeyong eventually gives up any attempt of not thinking about his junior, but he still keeps his eyes shut, not having the confidence that he could stop himself from staring at Jaehyun’s face if he let them open.

At last, it reaches their destination. The train stops. Jaehyun draws himself away. Taeyong finds himself missing the protective cocoon of heat. He just yawns it away.

“So,” he starts once they’re on the platform. People move around them, making a beeline for the stairs. They stay where they are, two people. Unsure. Uncertain.

“So.”

Taeyong gathers his courage to look at Jaehyun, who’s looking rather worried about him. He probably looks horrible with dark circles lurking under his eyes. He’s probably more tired than he thought he was with all the sleepless nights (thinking about Jaehyun) and his piling up job. “You’re walking me home.”

“Can’t risk it, Hyung, now that you look like you can topple over any minute.” It’s final, leaving no room for argument.

The elder sighs, muttering under his breath, “This is why people call you my puppy. I don’t know why _puppy_ , though, you’re more like,” he scrunches his face, thinking. Unaware of the interested look Jaehyun is giving him. “Siberian husky. Huge, white, Siberian Husky.”

“People actually call me your _puppy_?”

Wonderful, he just got his foot stuck in his mouth. Real good job, there, Lee Taeyong. “Not people, more like Yuta. And he is dumb. Don’t take him seriously.”

“You did.” Taeyong pouts at that. “I don’t mind, though. Being your puppy. Your dog.” At this, Taeyong’s mouth falls. “But rather than Siberian Husky, I think I prefer Doberman. They’re more, you know, smart. Alert. Strong. Protective. More regal, too, I guess.”

No. No. No. Taeyong doesn’t know. Well, maybe Taeyong knows why Jaehyun prefers Doberman than Siberian Husky, but he doubts that’s what needs addressing here. Definitely not that. Definitely, it should be the fact that Jaehyun just straight-out admitted he is _okay_ being called Taeyong’s puppy.

Taeyong’s dog.

A Doberman, too. Smart. Alert. Strong. Protective. Regal.

Also, only loyal to one master.

 _He is only easy for you_.

Taeyong doesn’t know what to think anymore. He just continues to gape at Jaehyun who eventually notices his dumbstruck state and of course, being the darling, _loyal, protective_ self-proclaimed human-embodiment of a Doberman, he presses his palm to Taeyong’s forehead, checking his temperature. “You okay, Hyung? You feel a bit warm.”

He probably doesn’t notice that they’re not the only people in this station, so, Taeyong wants to say; _no, I’m not okay_ . There are people. There is Jaehyun’s hand searing _thoughts_ into his now feverish mind. How the hell is he supposed to be okay when Jaehyun just _shamelessly_ said he is okay with being Taeyong’s dog – _Doberman?_ He doesn’t think he’s getting any sleep again today.

His lack of response only makes Jaehyun even more anxious. He steps closer, hand sliding down from Taeyong’s forehead to his cheek, then, _fuck;_ his neck. Still checking on him.

He is so close that Taeyong can smell his perfume. He smells so good. So nice. So familiar. So clean. Freshly washed laundry. Taeyong stops himself from purring at the comforting touch and scent.

This isn’t the first time Jaehyun has done this to him, but back then, he had _fucking_ girlfriends. So many of them. Too many, that there was practically no room for Taeyong to hope that he had a chance with him. He takes it as nothing but a friendly gesture, because Jaehyun is an attentive friend. He is intimate, he’s comfortable, then before he knows it, he starts taking all his kindness as it is.

But now Jaehyun has no girlfriend. And he had looked at Taeyong hopefully when his words implied that he was thinking about Jaehyun. He had looked at Taeyong’s lips, distracted.

And he is okay with being called Taeyong’s dog.

“I think I’m not okay,” is the only thing Taeyong manages to get out.

That makes Jaehyun alarmed. “Then we should get you home quickly, Hyung. Can you walk?”

“I’m fine. I can. Yes. Just, I wanna go home, now.” More people are trickling in, bundled in their thick coats. Hands shoved inside their pockets. “Next train’s coming soon, it seems. We’ve been here too long.”

Jaehyun nods and says nothing further. Nothing but, “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have taken you out.”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything either. He doesn’t say anything, too, when Jaehyun takes his hand, leading him out.

He doesn’t think he can. Not without making a fool of himself again.

:::

Taeyong doesn’t know how it happened, but he suddenly has a Jaehyun in his room.

A Jaehyun in his tiny yet meticulously organized apartment room that is only designed to accommodate one person. His bed isn’t even a bunk bed, just a single bed, and with the 180cm human tower that is Jaehyun, his room feels a lot smaller.

Taeyong doesn’t know how it happened. He only knows that he tripped on his way back, clumsily, because Lee Taeyong can be an imposing Senior AE who _bitches_ about how sloppily a presentation was made, but he can also channel a toddler and lose his brain-movement coordination so ungracefully.

Jaehyun mistook it as Taeyong being too exhausted, beyond dead, and he’d won every single argument that he should leave because Taeyong is fine, and he’s not going to drop dead any second.

He’s so good at deflecting Taeyong’s point that the senior is almost proud; after all, he was the one who mentored Jaehyun when he was still a clumsy-tongued intern. Taeyong knew he had it in him, he just needed a boost of confidence.

With that confidence, here he is. In Taeyong’s room. In all his 180cm glory of warmth and lean muscles. His room feels cramped. It feels hot. Jaehyun is practically a living furnace, and he almost decided not to turn his heater on because Jaehyun radiates enough heat already.

He also doesn’t know how he ended up with Jaehyun waiting for him to change. He doesn’t know how Jaehyun practically tucked him to bed after that. He doesn’t _fucking_ know, but if there was one thing he knows, it is how disoriented he was as he lived through that surreal experience.

It’s like free-falling by accident. You didn’t realize that you lost your ground, you only knew you’re already falling. And it’s so much like love.

And he also knows he’s god-damn sleepy, and lethargic. He’s gonna shift the blame to his state of exhaustion for now.

“Is this okay?” Jaehyun’s question comes in a whisper. He’s patting the duvet that Taeyong is currently buried under. Sitting cross-legged by Taeyong’s low bed.

“ ‘m fine,” but his answer comes out muffled as Taeyong burrows deeper. Not to seek heat, but to escape the heat Jaehyun is glowing with.

Jaehyun smiles, and it teeters on the edge, and his eyes do, too. Trembling. His fingers are steadier, brushing a stray hair from Taeyong’s forehead. There, Taeyong’s skin sings. The sigh just slips out of his mouth, rebellious. Jaehyun seems to pick up on it, and he rubs a comforting thumb on that spot above his brows. “This, okay, too?”

It’s too late to go back. He is already falling, hands searching helplessly for nonexistent purchase. Taeyong abandons his perseverance eventually, lets the wind caress his cheeks, soft, like Jaehyun’s fingers on his temple. As far as his eyes see is blue. Endless expanse. Like loving Jaehyun, and Taeyong is falling.

The soothing rub stops. “If this is not-”

“‘s okay,” Taeyong murmurs, not quite looking at Jaehyun, but when the touch returns, he sighs again, then eventually shifts his gaze to meet Jaehyun’s deep, dazzling citrine. “ _This_ is okay.”

“Okay,” Jaehyun parrots it, more like he is trying the word in his tongue. More like making certain. Childishly tentative. “Yeah. _Okay_. That’s. Good.”

His gaze, snow flutter-tender, is too much for Taeyong to take. So, the elder closes his eyes, playing the incapacitated and lets himself be indulged by Jaehyun’s healing hand. “Good.”

No more words are exchanged. Jaehyun continues the ministration, never once ceasing. He hums here and there, too. Soft. A foreign yet comfortable lullaby. His touch. His attention. Taeyong feels warm everywhere. From the duvet. From Jaehyun’s soothing hands. From the way Taeyong knows his eyes are still on him.

From remembering how easy it is to be around Jaehyun. Even if right now they’re a little bit complicated, like memorizing the endless shortcuts to get through your neighbourhood, everything is - _will_ \- be convenient in the end. With that belief in mind, Taeyong is ready to bid farewell to his wake.

“I’m sorry.”

Until that word slips, frail, feather-like fall, from Jaehyun’s mouth.

Taeyong opens his heavy eyes to find Jaehyun’s equally laden gaze on his. His eyes are beautiful, is the first thing that registers in his mind. They’re also sad. A picturesque winterland. Snowflakes drift like a sullen child. Upset. Unwanting. Touch the earth, and they’re bound disappear. Such a sad fate of something so beautiful. Taeyong’s mind wanders, further into that painting in his eyes, if those feelings he thinks he sees inside their depth will have to meet the same fate?

And loving Jaehyun, whose eyes had turned darker shades of setting sky, according to them, was blue.

Maybe, it’s true. That loving him was blue. Taeyong can agree to that. Certainly, it’s azure, like the sunny winter sky. Clean, like the air he breathes in January. Calming, like receiving Jaehyun’s emoji _good morning_ on Slack every single morning.

It’s blue, but not the dull slate blue. It’s the pale turquoise of the spring sky framing the pastel blooms. It’s the glimmering aqua of the ocean under the tinkering sun. It’s blue, the bright, startling blue of the arctic sky embraced by the golden wings of the sun.

Loving him was blue. Rose blue impossible. Wavelength blue short, unenduring. Loving him is scooping water with bare hands. Loving him is loving a ghost.

Loving him, for Taeyong, was black. Untrue. Splash colors and it remains black all the same. It may be the reason why it’s so easy to forget that little seed of affection, why it’s so easy for him to revert back into being friends with Jaehyun.

It’s so easy, like loving Jaehyun is. And making mistakes. It’s unthinking, but there’s something churning in his chest, telling him that as easy as it is to commit a mistake called loving him, he was committing another one called forgetting him.

“Why?” he croaks out, voice drowsy.

Jaehyun takes his time, pinning Taeyong down with that shimmering snow-globe of his eyes. Beautiful yet lonely. Cold with sadness yet warm with attention.

Welcoming yet detached. Like Jaehyun. Like confessing to him only to be left alone with a ghost to hold.

“Because it’s selfish of me,” and when Taeyong furrows his brows, Jaehyun elaborates. “I’m probably making you worried, aren’t I? I shouldn’t be. You had a hard week already. But you went as far as taking me to lunch-”

“Last time I remember, I do it all the time for you,” Taeyong interjects, “and Sicheng. And Yuta, when I’m feeling generous.”

Jaehyun laughs, and it uplifts Taeyong’s mood, to see some cheerfulness bleed the color of rose onto his cheeks. “You’re right. You are always generous, though?”

“When it comes to you,” he huffs, trying to fold his hands under the blanket but failing. He ends up with them crossed on his stomach. “And maybe I’m worried. A little.”

“See?” Jaehyun taps his thumb on Taeyong’s relaxed brow. The elder frowns again, affronted, this time with a pout. “Anyway. Sorry, Hyung, for making you worried. Thanks for the attention, but I’m fine. Really. About the breakup. I mean it, I’m not even thinking about it anymore.”

He says like he really means it and Taeyong is already so good at reading Jaehyun that he knows he means every single sentence of it. It’s good that it’s not bothering him. _At all_.

_Have you ever loved me at all?_

“Is it that easy?” Taeyong blurts out.

“Huh?”

Too late to take it back. He’s already sinking, after all. Taeyong continues. “You said you’re not thinking about it. Them. Your exes. Are they that easy for you, breakups?”

“...it’s not the breakup that’s easy.” Jaehyun is quiet again. His fingers are still moving though, and it feels pleasant. Taeyong can feel the drowsiness seeping back behind his eyelids.

“You said it’s a long time coming.”

“I did,” is his answer. Short. Simple. True.

“Have you ever loved them at all, Jaehyun?”

The fingers stop. Taeyong casts his gaze downward, not wanting to know how Jaehyun looks. When he speaks, his voice is faint. Meek. Guilty. “...I tried.”

“You never,” he chuckles, not surprised. Not surprised either that his heart feels lighter.

“I could have.”

“The bottom line is you couldn’t. You didn’t.” He states the bitter truth, although he is not sure it’s bitter for either of them at all. “Then why do it at all, Jaehyunnie? If you don’t like them-"

“I like them.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes before flitting his gaze upward to give his junior a dry look. “If you don’t have feelings for them, then why accept their confessions? Why do you agree to be their boyfriend?”

Jaehyun doesn’t immediately answer. He just looks at Taeyong like a deer caught in headlights. Like a child caught stealing candies before bed. So helpless. So familiar as the boy that Taeyong came to know four years ago when he was just barely starting and was still making a lot of mistakes. “Because I thought they could help.”

“Help?” That was unexpected. That he’s looking away from Taeyong as if he’s hiding something from him is also unexpected, and it sparks something inside Taeyong’s heart. Hurt. Betrayal.

_Why won’t Jaehyun tell him anything at all?_

“Help you with what?”

“Help making me forget.”

“About?”

Jaehyun buries his face in his palms, sighing morosely. “Don’t. Hyung. Please. You know I can’t. If you want it, I can’t.”

He sounds like he is in pain, but Taeyong is in pain too. It’s there, thudding dully everywhere. Streaming needles in his veins. He wants to know. He can’t bear not knowing, not when he is this close to his answer.

Not when he realizes that what he had always wanted for a long time is probably there right in front of him. Not when he can probably make amends for his mistake.

“Jae-"

“I just can’t, okay?” Jaehyun snaps, still hiding his face. “I don’t know why is it so hard for me, it seemed to be easy for him, but I can’t. No matter how many girls I date, no matter how pretty they are, how large their eyes are, I can’t. I’m seeing him still. Everywhere still. Everytime. And I can’t help thinking about how pathetic I am because it was my fault all along that he walked out, but I cannot stop loving him. Thinking about him. I still, for him. Looking. Loving. And I-”

Jaehyun suddenly stops, hands slipping down from his face to find purchase on either side of Taeyong’s pillow. Taeyong hears himself swallowing, hears Jaehyun swallowing, too. Hears Jaehyun’s breath as his face gets closer and closer.

Hears that song again, words he remembers by heart.

Then Jaehyun kisses him.

:::

Taeyong ends up bedridden for two days straight from the flu.

Yuta won’t stop sending him messages. So does Sicheng. So does Seulgi who’s _generous_ enough to tell him that Jaehyun made a record by turning someone’s confession down for the first time.

Jaehyun doesn’t text him.

Taeyong doesn’t either.

He texts Seulgi;

_Is he okay?_

_Poor guy wouldn’t stop coughing when I saw him this morning, but other than that, he’s fine._

Three hours later, his phone blinks with new notification from Yuta.

_Jaehyun stubbed his toe on the door. Forgot he has a meeting. Sicheng almost looked like he’s going to cry!_

_but he breezed through it apparently, perfect bastard_

_also, he turned down Chaekyung, did you hear that?_

_Hirai-san whom you met for the meeting on Saturday won’t stop asking me why Jaehyun isn’t answering her text_

_she said it’s strictly profession, buuuuuut_

_*professional_

_Fuck, he just spilled coffee all over his desk_

_F U C K apparently there’s_

_Oh man, I hope you’re here, he looks hopeless_

_not recording it for you. your loss_

_the hell’s wrong with him today? Bad break up? Did the ice prince Jeong Jaehyun finally find someone he loved dear enough to be hungover about??_

_aaaaand he’s coughing again_

_answer me, Taeyong Lee_

_jerk_

:::

Taeyong thought loving him was black.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Now you are talking.”

Jaehyun is talking because otherwise, how else is he going to fill the dragging silence between them.

Taeyong doesn’t blame it, the silence, it’s just doing its job. Like they’re making copies for their presentation. It’s another Wednesday. It’s been a week since Taeyong overheard Chaeyeon calling off her relationship with Jaeyun.

It’s been a week since Jaeyun gave him that hopeful look. It’s been a week since his night was plagued by the thought of his junior. About something that’s not supposed to be any color.

They stand side by side. Taeyong had been here earlier, copying his materials, but then the machine got stuck, and Sicheng happened to pass by, two cups of steaming tea in his hands. He said he’d get help. When Jaehyun emerged with his shirt messily untucked and nose flaming red from irritation, Taeyong prayed to God that this boy who almost backpedaled immediately at the sight of him would be more help to him than another trouble.

“It’s stuck,” he said, stopping Jaehyun from bolting away. The brunette blinks, and Taeyong noticed the corners of his eyes are also red. He wanted to ask if Jaehyun has been getting any sleep at all, but the machine made a loud beeping sound and time ticks away, urging.

They have a meeting in an hour. “That’s our, uhh...”

“Presentation,” Taeyong affirmed. “It’s stuck. It sucks. Don’t want our meeting turn out the same, do you?”

Jaehyun looked around as if looking for help. So much for a help he is. Why is he so hell-bent in avoiding Taeyong anyway? In the end, he didn’t find anyone so he’s _stuck_ helping Taeyong. “Let me see. The machine.”

“Obviously,” Taeyong snorted, half-amused by his _dongsaeng_ ’s awkwardness. “What else would you see anyway, my room?”

Jaehyun pressed something that makes the machine beep louder. Three times.

His face blossomed scarlet. Taeyong sniggered, hiding his mischievous grin behind his hand.

“I’m sorry. That’s-”

“A mistake,” Taeyong offered. Jaehyun only nodded, robotic. Then he pulled himself together and started working on the machine.

That was roughly ten minutes ago. He had found the problem, leftover paper being forcefully torn out. Under his grey cardigan, he’s sweating. Taeyong left to go to the toilet for a tissue. When he returned, Jaehyun had already stripped out of the thick garment, and it’s folded neatly on the pile of brown envelopes.

“Thanks, Hyung,” he accepted the tissue. Shy. Still awkward. Only down to his creasing shirt. Still avoiding Taeyong’s eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and  Taeyong didn’t take his eyes off him even once. He watched Jaehyun wipe the pooling sweat under his hair, watched him sliding it down his face, sweeping past his strong jaw, patting the damp skin on his neck.

Throwing the crumpled tissue to the bin, Jaehyun resumed his work, and now, here they are. Jaehyun breaking the obliviously imposing silence with his _confession_.

“I am, because. That was.” He is not looking at Taeyong, still focusing on getting the papers perfectly lined up. Surely, the frown on his face is more because of the stubborn papers, not because he doesn’t want to get the words out of his mouth. “A _mistake_ ,” and the paper is finally in. His brows are still knitted together, he obviously doesn’t mean it.

“It’s easy to make.” Taeyong steps closer to him.

Jaehyun steps aside, running away. Taeyong chases after him by pressing a tissue to his sweat-dampened cheek. Jaehyun flinches.

“Am I?” He wipes the tissue across Jaehyun’s face until the boy is giggling. Feeling satisfied, feeling buoyed by that morning-crisp laugh, Taeyong swipes it upward under the fabric is scrunched under Jaehyun’s bands, exposing the side of his face to him.

He is looking at Taeyong, gaze a stand-still quiver, like a puppy waiting for punishment, tails and ears folded. Vulnerable.

“Am I?” Taeyong repeats, voice going soft.

Jaehyun shakes his head, murmurs almost inaudibly. The emotion in his eyes is screaming, louder. “You are not-"

“Then tell me, Jaehyunnie, what was that?”

Jaehyun circles his hand around Taeyong’s wrist, bringing it down from his face. Taeyong wants to protest but then Jaehyun tightens his hold, as tight as his voice when he says, “Everything.”

“Everything?”

Then Jaehyun does the unexpected. He presses his lips to Taeyong’s knuckle, head bowed, eyes closed. Taeyong can feel his breath kissing his skin. “I can never deny you, can I?”

It’s unfair, Taeyong thinks as he struggles to breathe. The oxygen just won’t cooperate, refusing to come in. His lungs flare in pain, sending an SOS signal, but his brain is as unfriendly as the oxygen, and he cannot _fucking_ breathe. Not with Jaehyun is practically inhaling him. Unfair. Cruel.

Loving him was supposed to be easy, like breathing. Breathing was supposed to be easy, well-rehearsed, but Taeyong flounders like fish out of the water with Jaehyun doing all these things to him.

He doesn’t remember it being this difficult, except maybe it has always been difficult, loving him, especially when he realized that there was no way his feeling would emerge victorious. It’s difficult, unchangingly so, and Taeyong just decided to give up in the middle before he could really know how complicated it could have been.

Loving him.

“You are,” Taeyong tries, neither his mouth nor brain is functioning properly. “One to talk.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement. “I am.” He continues with an explanation. “That was everything, Hyung, my _everything._ My all. My four years of a stupid crush on you that I’m trying to forget by dating every single girl who came to me. But I can’t. None of them help. It’s just you. Only you. In the end, I always come back to you. Even if I shouldn’t have to because it’s never been my house to come back to.”

He said this all on Taeyong’s knuckle, literally. Taeyong can feel every single movement of his lips. The moistness of his breath. The warmth of his skin. His fingers around Taeyong’s wrist are coldly burning heavy shackles. Made of iron, gilded, molten. Beautiful yet torturing.

“It’s you, Hyung. For me, it has always and only got to be you,” he finishes, looking at Taeyong with equally burning liquid amber. Scalding hot like his honestly, tickling warm like his affection.

Taeyong’s throat is burned with emotion, he can hardly get his words out, “That’s what you meant by _help_?”

“Does that make me a jerk?” Jaehyun chuckles, self-deprecating.

“An even bigger one than I thought you were. You shouldn't have played with people's hearts.”

“I know,” and Taeyong swears he’s pressing an actual kiss on his knuckle now. “I’m a huge jerk.”

“Congratulation, you’re now a dick,” Taeyong manages to say with no humor, voice coming out flat because he still cannot make sense of everything, his brain too busy trying to see the bigger picture to bother being eloquent or emotional.  “And stupid.”

“And pathetic,” Jaehyun admits.

“Yeah.” This won’t do. He still can’t see clearly, everything is fogged and Jaehyun’s _explanation_ is a passing shadow beyond. He needs more. “So, you have a crush on me.”

“I did. I do.” It’s totally unfair how effortlessly Jaehyun admits this after all the stunts of avoidance he had pulled earlier. He supposes it’s true then, for Jaehyun, coming out to him is easier than denying him. Just like it is for Taeyong to love him.

“Why didn't you tell me anything?”

“I know you had a crush on me, too.” Another kiss, this time to the nub of his thumb.

“Wait; _what_? And, did you just kiss me?”

“And I know you’re over me. That’s why I didn’t say anything. It’s stupid, really. The first relationship I had with Soojung-noona was a scam, it was just a ploy to get her boyfriend jealous. I would have told you but she pleaded for me not to. Remember how I kept my distance after that? If I saw you, I would have ended up spilling everything, so I had to. You would have figured me out anyway.” And he adds, “not you. Your thumb. Technically, it’s you, too. But. Not you. Not yet.”

Taeyong blinks rapidly, both taken aback by the kiss and Jaehyun’s explanation. “I would. Probably.” And there’s excitement that dances down his spine. _Not yet_.

“And there was a time you kept away from me, too, around the same time. I was, umm, grateful? In a sense that danger had been avoided. But then I broke up with her, and I was about to tell you, then I overheard Seulgi-noona and Yuta-hyung talking about how you’d just recovered from a heartbreak.”

“Me?”

“It’s, well, fucking silly. But somehow, I’m convinced it was me. You weren’t, umm, looking exactly happy when I told you about Soojung-noona, you’re not that hard to figure out, just like I am to you. Then there was that blank space where we didn't talk at all, and even when we did, your answers were short and snappy. Maybe I was delusional but I always believed that you had a crush on me too, as much as I had on you.”

Taeyong shyly admits, “I did.”

“So, I wanted to prove it. If you’re really, if it was me you’re recovering from. I told you I ended things with her and you looked, well.”

Jaehyun pauses, Taeyong prods. “Well?”

“Normal.”

The frown is back on his face, he echoes Jaehyun, ludicrous, “Normal?”

“Yes. Normal. You didn't look particularly upset, nor happy. You just looked appropriately like, like a friend. And it upset me, I guess. You were really over me. You treat me differently, too, you may not realize it, but you’re not as touchy as you were before. And you’re more open. Not that it’s bad because it means you trust me and I’m eternally grateful for that. It’s just-”

“I’m _over_ you,” he finishes for him. A little bit dizzy. And maybe dumbstruck at the revelation.

“You’re no longer conscious of me.”

“So, the girls are really, that; _help_?” He confirms.

Jaehyun sighs, real guilt taints his voice dull grey. “It seemed easy for you, to forget. To move on. You didn't even have a distraction. You just. Forgot. About me.”

“My crush on you,” he corrects him. “It’s because I thought I had no hope with you. It wasn’t,” he swallows. _Easy._ Only loving Jaehyun is easy, forgetting him is going against the current. Forgetting him is mending a broken bridge, but takes time and patience, and eventually, he’s done.

“I’m a jerk, and pathetic. No matter how many girls I dated, I _used_ , I can’t seem to get over you. I can’t, not even now.”

“Don’t,” Taeyong finds himself blurting out.

Jaehyun blinks, “don’t?”

“Get over me.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in wonder, his mouth falling slightly ajar.

“Umm,” Taeyong ducks his head down, avoiding Jaehyun’s awestruck gaze. “Does it makes me easy? You just broke up, and I’m. Um.”

“That’s not-"

“Am I?”

“You’re not.” Jaehyun still looks like he is not believing anything he hears, but he sounds sure, and that reassures Taeyong.

“That’s,” he fumbles. “Good. Comforting to hear.”

“You’re not over me,” Jaehyun murmurs, trying each and every word on his tongue. Trying to make sense of everything, like Taeyong is, trying to cast all the fog away to see the complete picture.

He finds one. It’s beautiful. It’s of serene, hushed field grey, shadow casting lulling blue on its expanse. It’s of winterland. With a sky a melancholic shade of pastel azure, sun framing the horizon in red bleeding gold into pink and purple.

It’s Jaehyun. It’s all soothing colors of frost but they’re easy on the eyes despite being untouchable. A curiously frigid warm wintertide. So cold yet burst into the familiar comfort of having clear, crunchy air entering your lungs. Imposing but strangely liberating, like working him out; like working _them_ out.

“Not really. I did. But,” Taeyong exhales in frustration. “You know that I’m practically telling you that I still have crush on you, right?”

“That sounds like you’re saying _I love you_ , actually.”

Taeyong’s mouth opens and closes. Jaehyun laughs at his flustered face. He also presses another kiss - _kisses -_ to every slope and hill of his knuckle before cradling Taeyong’s face with his other hand. Gentle, handling a treasured jewel.

“I do,” he says.

Taeyong doesn’t blink, just watches as Jaehyun’s face gets nearer and nearer. His breathing tickling his face, his eyes stunning shade of deep citrine with specks of tiny scarlet stars gleaming. “You do.”

“Love you.”

Jaehyun seals the words in his lips. _Theirs_.

Commits them. Brand them. Makes Taeyong memorize the plushness of his lips and the clumsiness of his warmth as he accidentally bumps their teeth together. It makes a _clicking_ noise and they quickly separate their faces, blinking in bewilderment and embarrassment, before erupting into laughter. Shy. Happy.

Jaehyun’s cheeks are as red as his irritated nose, and Taeyong wraps his arms around his shoulders. Easy.

“Sorry, I’m-”

Taeyong speaks on his lips, voice lilting with exhilaration, “having flu.”

“-inexperienced,” he stutters quickly, “and flu, too. There’s that, too.”

The elder draws himself back, Jaehyun’s arms still wound securely around his waist. “Seriously?”

“Never. Kissed them, I mean. That’s. This is.”

“Your first kiss,” he tilts his head. “No, the one in my room would be your first.”

Jaehyun admits it with a meek, “yes.” Somehow, the affirmation makes Taeyong’s day incredibly better. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, not when I’m not your. Umm. Boyfriend. Properly.”

Taeyong hums, knocking their heads together until they are nose to nose. “Are you, now?”

“That would depend on your answer,” Jaehyun nuzzles his nose with his own, eliciting a happy giggle from Taeyong’s throat. He feels impossibly good, like floating on a cotton candy ship, sailing over the ocean of maple syrup.

“I thought I had done that already?”

“You just said, let me see,” Jaehyun makes a thinking noise and ridiculous face. Taeyong feels like kissing him silly, so he does. Kisses him. Silly, he’s positively grinning and so does Jaehyun. When they part, Jaehyun says, “If I’m not mistaken, you said; _You know that I’m practically telling you that I still have crush on you, right?_ ”

“And you said it sounds like something else,” he sticks his tongue out, playing sullen.

Jaehyun kisses it off his face. Taeyong sighs, running his fingers through Jaehyun’s hair, drawing him closer. They’re pressed flush against each other, and Taeyong can feel Jaehyun’s heart beating, graceful fingers dancing over piano keys. A familiar song.

It’s simple. It’s intimate notes twining around each other, holding hands as they dance in perfect harmony, creating a comfortable melody. It’s like loving Jaehyun. It’s easy.

“Say it, Hyung,” Jaehyun says, voice fading into the brink of a whisper.

Taeyong closes his eyes, reveling in the surrounding warmth that he’s already accustomed to. The warmth he thought he had lost but never really had. “But you said-”

“Lee Taeyong.”

It’s a plea. It’s a request. Maybe, it’s an order. Perhaps, it’s an invitation.

Perhaps, _it’s easy_.

Like mistake. Like coming home. Like feeling happy at the thought of sleep after a long day.

Like falling. In love.

:::

Taeyong heard loving him is blue.

Blue, like sadness, painted as in piece of literature. Blue, like the color of the sky and the ocean aren’t really blue but the product of an optical effect. Blue, like lies, like illusion. Blue, like blotches of light dancing to cloud your vision after you stare directly into the sun.

It’s bad enough as it is, but Taeyong thought it was way more horrible.

For him, loving him was black. It’s not even a color at all, therefore, it cannot be. Love.

It’s ghost. Black like the monster that lurks under children’s beds. Black like not seeing. Black, predator, a danger. Black like smoke that fades as soon as you thread your fingers through it.

But black is true. Black is certain. Black is there, always existent cloak of darkness that waits until the light goes out to welcome you in its embrace.

And some people actually argue that black is a color because it depends on what you perceive color as to begin with. So, maybe it’s a color. Maybe it’s love.

So what’s the use of thinking about this, really? Not when he has Jaehyun’s legs tangled with his, buried under his covers in his narrow room that is only enough to accomodate the living of one person. He considers moving, somewhere after spring arrives, before rain gathers in. Somewhere new, somewhere bigger for both him and Jaehyun to live in. Maybe a bit further from office so they can have more time for themselves while commuting.

The time reads ten thirteen. It’s Saturday morning. They didn’t leave office until eleven last night, and they were too tired to do anything but strip out of their clothes and cuddle under the duvet before sleep claimed them. It’s been another long, hectic week with meetings, meetings, and another meeting. Report to file. Presentation to be made. Data to analyze.

Now, Taeyong wakes up with the sun casting its lovely beam of gold across their bed, some of it bleeding onto Jaehyun’s bare shoulder, framing him in a soft halo of purple where his skin meets the gold. Even with the light dusting of fatigue under his eyes, he still looks dashing.

Taeyong brushes his hair back, revealing his forehead. His boyfriend. His lovely boyfriend who had promised him he’d cook Taeyong pancakes loaded with chocolate chips and drizzled with rich syrup for breakfast. His boyfriend who had probably forgotten all about it under the seduction of sleep.

Taeyong doesn’t blame him: Jaehyun is probably as tired as he is. Besides, they still have tomorrow, and if his memory is correct, they’re out of eggs.

Eggs. Milk. Groceries. Another thing for them to do, together.

If Yuta knew, he’d call them gross. “You two are way too domestic,” he had commented, all bark no bite, after he found out that his seat mate’s favorite thing to do with his boyfriend is groceries.

“You’re just jealous you still haven’t gotten into Mr. Kim’s pants.”

The Japanese man poked out his tongue, “I’ll let you know that I’ve managed to score another date with him this Saturday.”

“Still can’t even hold his hand,” Taeyong refuted.

Yuta threw his pencil but Taeyong evaded it smoothly. He hoped Yuta’s courting could go as smoothly.

And doing laundry together. Yuta cannot wash a thing to save his life, he wouldn’t know the wonder of bubbles and soaps, and things they can do _after_ when their are clothes soaked.

Maybe he should put _laundry_ on his to do list, too. They could barely do anything intimate this week, the furthest they could get was a quick makeout session in the shower, before both of them realized they had an appointment in less than an hour.

“What’re you thinking?” Jaehyun breaks his reverie, nuzzling onto the inner of Taeyong’s wrist. His voice is heavy, scratchy with sleep. His eyes are half-closed, yet, they radiate so much warmth, warmer than the sunlight they’re bathed in.

“You,” Taeyong caresses his cheek, Jaehyun sighs blissfully. “Good morning to you.”

Jaehyun chuckles, rubbing his eyes with smile flicking the corner of his lips upward. “That’s cheesy coming for you.”

“It’s time-limited,” and Jaehyun gives him a part sleepy, part confused look. Taeyong grins, sun dancing over him just as mischievous. “It was your birthday this Wednesday.”

That got Jaehyun’s attention. “And we spent it,”

“Working,” Taeyong says with mock regret, heaving a theatrical sigh to emphasize. “So, I figured that maybe I should give you your present today.”

“Being cheesy?” Jaehyun raises a quizzical brow.

But Taeyong reads him. Easy. He always wears his heart on his sleeve. His eyes are a gate with no door to guard what lies inside. “Better.”

He kisses him. Sweet. Simple. Chaste. Jaehyun smiles and is about to deepen it, but Taeyong is faster. He draws himself back then moves under the cover until he’s sitting on Jaehyun’s torso, legs straddling his boyfriend’s hips.

With his hands on top of Jaehyun’s chest, propping him up, Taeyong purs, “ _better._ ”

Underneath him, Jaehyun grows tense. So does a certain anatomy of his. Taeyong feels excitement kissing up the nubs of his spine, noting how Jaehyun’s eyes don’t seem to know where to rest; Taeyong’s face or his naked body on top of Jaehyun’s equally bare one.

They’re skin to skin. Sunray whispers encouraging heat across his skin, tickling him with fuzzy titillation. Jaehyun’s large palm falls on his knee, kneading. His eyes eventually find purchase on Taeyong’s face; lips. He breathes out, eyes dazzling caramel sweet under the shine.

“ _Better_ ,” he echoes Taeyong word. Fingers climbing up from his knee to his thigh.

Taeyong nods, wiggling his brows and presses his ass down on Jaehyun, making his boyfriend groan. “ _Better_.”

Jaehyun playfully slaps one of his thigh before rubbing the tender skin, earning a pleased sigh from Taeyong in return. “So, is this part where I flip you over, or?”

“Oh, no, no,” Taeyong wiggles a finger to his face, shaking his head. He places it on top of Jaehyun’s lips, slides it down quickly before the younger man can get as much as a lick of it, down his chin, his neck, between his collarbones, and makes a random spiral before it stops right under his chest. He taps, once. “You, Sir, just watch. Consider this your present.”

“Consider this,” Jaehyun darts his gaze from Taeyong’s finger to his face, hands heavy and promising on his thighs. “Are you saying this is not my present?”

“Hmm,” Taeyong drags his finger down. Further. Past those taut, lean muscles, skimming over his navel, and stops right where his hair begins. “That, Sir,”

“I like it when you call me Sir.”

Taeyong jabs his finger into Jaehyun’s navel, making him flinch in surprise but laughing all the same. “And you’re supposed to be my dog.”

“Your Doberman,” Jaehyun catches his wrist, rubbing the tender skin where his veins are the most apparent. “Loyal. Only to you.”

Taeyong smiles. Smug. Happy. Like the sun weaving cadence over their skin. Like the sky, startling bright shimmering blue. “I still can’t believe you actually said that, you know. You are okay. Being my dog.”

“Your Doberman.”

“Are you?” Jaehyun pulls on his hand, Taeyong resists so Jaehyun can only get a faint kiss on his fingertips.

“Would be, if you want to. If you let me.” His heart flips. He starts to consider maybe he should let Jaehyun flip him over. Suddenly, it sounds like a great idea. Although, maybe it’s not so sudden. It’s always a _good_ idea.

But no, no, no, no. Today, it’s about Jaehyun and giving him his birthday present. He should be pampered, coddled. _Well_ , there’s no denying he’ll probably do all the _work_ later in the end, but as long as Taeyong can endure, he wants to be the one doing the work. For once. “For today, you’re not gonna be my dog. You’re gonna be my Sir.”

Jaehyun hums, approving. He lets Taeyong’s hand go, props his own under his head. His smirk is crooked on the side, half-lidded eyes blazing golden scarlet. With sleep gone from his features, he looks so annoyingly regal. Like a young Prince, righteously pompous yet debonair. It probably comes naturally for him, looking like that, boyishly stuck-up yet superior.

Natural. Easy. Like love. Like them.

“I don’t know what being your _Sir_ is, but I think I’m gonna enjoy it,” he says, voice low and delicious. Anticipating, a rich timbre of longing.

Taeyong starts to move downward, sheets rustling. Whisper of cotton on skin, Jaehyun’s muscles rippling underneath his. He could afford the luxury of silk sheets but time to get them is not something he could, so he opts for the easiest one he could get.

It’s easy, like singing his favorite song, like reciting a well-loved poem, like coming home. Like answering that the color of sky and sea are blue even though they really are not.

Taeyong heard loving him is blue, but for Taeyong, it’s _easy_.


End file.
